by Jane Ederlyn
He swept her into his arms, cradling her face in his chest. The warmth of his skin was like fire against her cheek, even through the soft cotton of his sky-blue T-shirt.
He carried her upstairs and dropped her on the bed. The room was dark and his eyes glowed like a burst of candle flame. He stepped back briefly to remove his shirt.
“You are being presumptuous again.”
“Am I?” He kicked off his pants before returning to her and busying his hands with the snaps of her jacket. “You can tell me to stop at any time.”
“Stop.”
His hands stilled on her body and his eyes searched hers, confusion and hesitancy darkening his eyes.
“Please, don’t stop.”
He threw his head back in a roar of laughter. “You little ball buster. Don’t worry, I won’t.”
“Hmm,” she murmured.
Afterward, they lay entwined as silence floated around them. As much as she wanted to know what he was thinking, she didn’t want to bring the outside world in, didn’t want to ruin their stolen moments.
Her hand reached out and touched his chest, tracing circles with her finger. “Why are you so warm? Is that a werewolf thing?”
He nodded. “Our body temperature is warmer than humans—and our metabolism faster.”
His stomach rumbled violently.
“I see,” she said.
He grinned, nonplussed. “I’m hungry.”
“You are always hungry.” Her hands skimmed down his body past his belly button, stopping at his lower abdomen.
He sucked in a breath. “Maybe food can wait?”
She splayed her hand enjoying the tensing of his muscles and the rush of heat that made him even hotter.
His stomach rumbled.
She laughed. “Maybe not.”
She handed him the keys to the Bentley and his face transformed from serious to youthful and expectant, like a kid on Christmas morning finally playing with a shiny new toy. “I’ve been waiting a long time to drive your car.”
“Have you?” She touched his cheek.
He drove around the Beach sightseeing until he couldn’t ignore his hunger any longer, and then they headed back to Lincoln Road. After he paid for parking and left the receipt on the dash of the car, he took her hand and they walked down the street. She admired the store windows, and when she glanced up at him, she found him watching her.
“Even vampires love shopping,” he said.
“I am a women first, Odin.”
He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Are you in the mood for anything in particular?”
She gave him a curious look.
“Does anything bother your nose?”
“When Abby eats garlic bread, I can smell it on her pores. It is unpleasant.”
“It doesn’t repel you.”
“It’s a myth. Are you planning how to drive me away when you are done with me?”
“The idea was in the back of my mind. Since I can’t best you with my extraordinary strength, I thought I would just breathe on you.”
She shook her head. “I like to breathe, but I do not have to.”
“I’ll have to think of something else then.”
Odin led Marie back to the Meat Market. When he ordered two filet mignons, the waitress stopped writing to look up at him. Her expression was unreadable, but she asked him to repeat himself.
“You must be new. Unseasoned. Barely seared. Bloody in the middle.”
Shortly after, she returned and placed one steak in front of Marie and the other in front of Odin. “The chef insisted this is how you regularly order it. If it isn’t to your liking, I can send it back to the kitchen.”
Odin punched the filet with his knife and a stream of blood spurted out. “It’s still mooing. Perfect.” He blasted the waitress with his signature charm and she left them alone to enjoy their meal.
“Have you tried eating?”
“No, I have not felt the urge. My liquid diet sustains me.”
“Ahh, my petite lavender flower, you have to try this. It’s good eats.”
She stared at the food as if it were alien. “Abby does not eat it like this.”
“How does she eat it?”
“Hockey puck well, she calls it.”
“That’s a waste of good meat.”
Marie poked it with her finger.
Odin laughed and handed her tableware and napkin. “Like normal people.”
“Oh yes,” she said. It had been a long time since she dined at a table and not even in this century, but she did watch Abby eat all the time. She could do this.
She crossed her legs and smoothed her napkin down. With a fork in her right hand, she stabbed the filet, and with a knife in the other, she sawed at it.
Odin chuckled and she glanced up at him. He motioned with his tableware, demonstrating the correct way of cutting food.
“Not that I care. It’s all going to end up in the same place, but I have a feeling it’s important to you.”
She gave him a nod of appreciation and adjusted her utensils.
He watched her expectantly as she cut the meat. The smell of raw blood hit her as blood and juices oozed out. Her eyebrow went up in surprise. “I see.” She tentatively put the cut piece into her mouth. She moved it around examining the texture before holding it against the roof of her mouth to squeeze the blood out with her tongue.
“Chew it,” Odin said.
She tried, but it was odd because the vampire fangs never fully retracted.
“Now swallow.”
When the flesh was dry, she tried to swallow but found it wouldn’t go down. “I can’t.” She delicately spit the chunk out into her napkin. “No more juice.”
“Try it again.”
She cut another piece, wetting it well with the spilled blood. Instead of putting it into her mouth, she kept it on the fork and sucked on it like a pacifier.
He watched her, amused. When the meat was dry, his hand clamped on her wrist and brought her fork to his mouth. He opened and swallowed her leftovers, his eyes never leaving hers.
Marie felt normal. She was on a date. She was eating. These juices would not satisfy her, but she could sit a table with her loved ones and not have to make endless excuses to strangers. She felt grateful for this present, grateful to Odin. He wasn’t a stuffy immortal stuck in the past. He was young at heart, changing with the passage of time, and immersed and enjoying every minute of the present. She glanced up at him and her eyes stung with emotion.
He winked at her in acknowledgement and returned to his food.
After dinner, they drove out of the parking lot, onto Sixteenth Street, then Jefferson, then Alton Road, and finally onto the Macarthur Causeway, letting the GT engine speed into the wind. She took in the cloudy sky, the lights of downtown Miami and Star Island, and the breeze off Biscayne Bay. It was a beautiful city and she was happy to let him take control. She trusted him enough to let him take control.
“Do you want me again?” Her voice caught, and she was surprised by her unquenchable desire for him and the vulnerability she felt in her need for him to feel the same.
When his hands tightened on the steering wheel, she knew he had heard it. But he didn’t look at her. It would have been like putting an interrogation light on her emotions and she was grateful that he didn’t press.
At the intersection of Biscayne Boulevard, he glanced in all directions. Finding the intersection clear, he spun the car into an illegal U-turn that brought them back onto the causeway, on route toward his apartment. Sometimes words were not necessary.
Chapter XIV
Marie walked into a kitchen ablaze with lights and filled with the aromas of coffee and hazelnuts.
Abby looked up from her book. “I’ve been waiting up. Where were you?”
“With Odin,” Marie said.
“What’s going on between you and him? You’ve never dated before,” Abby blurted.
“We are not dating. That is for humans.”
“Then what are you doing?”
Marie stiffened, Abby’s tone stealing all her cheer. “Do I need to spell it out for you, ma chérie? We spend time together that is all.”
“I’m glad it’s just sex because I don’t like him.” Abby drained her cup and yawned.
Marie was disappointed. She was hoping Abby liked him because she liked him. “Go to bed, ma chérie. You never were one to keep up with me.”
“But it’s early still.” She stifled another yawn.
“Go. I too will be in bed soon.”
“It’s not dawn yet. If I go to sleep now, you’ll be left alone. Are you sure you want me to go?”
“You are almost keeping up the same hours and you need your sleep. Come on, I will tuck you in.”
The two went upstairs. Abby crawled into bed and Marie joined her.
“Tell me about Mama,” Abby asked.
“She found a gentlemen in my room, once, and was angry with me.”
Abby frowned, her face a mask of skepticism.
Marie tapped her nose. “Roxanne was a free spirit, but she was very protective of me, as you are. She would even tuck me in.”
“Then I should.”
“You are not the night owl your mother was. Besides, I like tucking you in.”
“What was I like when I was a baby?”
Marie smiled, remembering a miniature Abby cradled in her arms. She had been such a pretty baby, big cheeks and big eyes, and always sleeping. Marie glanced at her. In maturity, she still had the same face and eyes. And as she suspected, Abby was already asleep, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks and her chest rising and falling in parallel breaths. Marie counted off numbers in French. When she thought movement wouldn’t wake Abby, she slipped out of bed and, as she turned off the bedside lamp for the nightlight, wished her child a silent blessing. The door closed with a soft click.
She gave the house a walk through, switching off lights Abby had turned on, before escaping the deafening silence of the house.
She stepped outside, past the gentle lull of the pool tide and onto the backyard lawn. The soil and grass were still warm from the sun and beckoned. She lay down on the smooth emerald sheet and soaked up the captured daylight. The whole world was asleep and she felt terribly and achingly alone.
She glanced at Abby’s bedroom window with its faint golden light. What if she finally gave in to Abby’s wish to be made a vampire? Marie shook her head and closed her eyes tightly to strike the thought from her consciousness. As much as she would love to have her child at her side for always, she was not that selfish. She wanted Abby happy, not condemned to this existence, condemned to constant darkness, condemned to Anton. Through her, Abby would become his blood and his to govern, and she would never let that happen. Never!
Abby opened the curtains. The sun blazed and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. She padded to the kitchen in her pajamas. It was early enough that the maid wasn’t in yet and the house was as still and quiet as stone—too quiet. She bypassed the drip coffee maker, deciding instead on café au lait. She dropped a capsule into the Nespresso machine and steamed milk. When the froth was perfect, she grabbed a croissant and her latte, and went outside to soak in the early morning light.
She dipped the croissant into the latte and munched, her face tilted up to feel the sun on her face. She felt for Marie, not being able to experience this ever again. Her cell phone buzzed and clattered on the kitchen counter. Who could be calling her at this time? She thought about letting it go to voicemail, but curiosity got the better of her and she ran inside to answer.
“Hello?”
“I miss you,” John greeted from the other side of the line. “I really miss you. Let me take you both to breakfast. My morning surgery cancelled and I have time before my next patient.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t do breakfast. I’m expecting a delivery.”
“Art?” he joked.
“Business, actually.”
“Dinner then?”
“That would be nice. Pick me up at sundown.”
“You know, I’ve never seen you during the day. We’re going to have to remedy that.”
Abby tensed. “We’re all busy people, John.”
“If you haven’t noticed, I’m crazy about you. I want to see you all the time; that means morning, noon, and night, all day, every day.”
She sighed in relief. Of course he didn’t suspect anything. She had to stop overreacting.
“I’m putting myself out there. Don’t play games with me,” John said.
“I’m not playing games, I just need a little time.”
“That, I can give you. I’ll see you later then.”
At sunset, lucidity punched through Marie’s deep sleep. Like a distant knocking, she sensed two heartbeats. One was Abby’s. As she concentrated on the second beat, a visage of a grinning John formed behind her eyes. She lay there aware of the falling sun and rising moon. When she heard a beep, her eyes snapped open, and she reached for her cell phone. The text read, ‘John here.’
How odd. Abby wouldn’t have invited anyone before sundown. Had he arrived unexpectedly early again? She needed to be careful with him but was grateful nature had taken its own course with little steering from her.
She changed from her negligee into jeans, a T-shirt with organza flowers, and Chanel ballerinas before heading downstairs.
“Good evening, Marie. Are you feeling better?” John asked as Marie entered the kitchen.
Abby glanced up but didn’t make eye-contact.
“Yes, I took a nap and I’m quite refreshed.”
“I’d love to take you both to dinner,” John said.
“Thank you for the invitation, but I must decline. I have a date. Perhaps another time?”
“With Odin, the guy from the gallery?” John asked.
Marie shrugged, deliberately noncommittal.
“Would you like us to bring you back something?” Abby asked.
“Not necessary.”
Abby’s lips tightened. “When will you be back?”
“Don’t worry about me. Enjoy yourself.” Marie winked suggestively, and Abby blushed.
John walked out, but instead of following, Abby turned on Marie. “Is date a code name for feeding? We had a delivery and there’s plenty to drink in the fridge.”
“Stop worrying, ma chérie.”
John retraced his steps and poked his head in. “Are you coming?”
Abby inhaled as if a volcanic argument was building.
Marie cut her off with a shake of her head and pushed her toward John. “Stop fretting. Go. Have fun. I’ll see you later.”
As soon as the lights of John’s car disappeared, Marie closed the door and headed for the Bentley.
Abby and John returned to the house for an after-dinner coffee. The bright kitchen cast a halo of light over the terrace, but underneath the pergola, the magenta bougainvilleas that wove up and across the structure’s roof, filtered the light. A cool breeze rolled off the bay and carried the scent of night blooming jasmine and gardenia. Abby looked at the moon, lost in thought, until she felt the prickly weight of John’s gaze. “It has so many secrets.”
“Who?” he asked.
“The moon. It rules the ocean, the harvest, the night, and creatures of the night.”
“You mean like owls and bats?”
“Something like that.”
He took her hand and kissed it.
She searched his fa
ce, wanting to find faults but couldn’t. He had a narrow, handsome face with an infectious grin. He looked more like a movie star than a dentist. He was confident without the least bit of arrogance, unlike Odin. Her eyes dropped to their entwined hands. His hand was large with veins, prominent from use, appearing like purple highways underneath his pale skin. He had the hands of a surgeon.
She didn’t love him, but she definitely liked him and maybe something could come of them. Maybe a baby? Maybe a relationship? Her stomach clenched. He was so normal. Not that normal was bad, but she would never trade her life for something other than what it was. Was it fair to ask him to enter her world? Would he? And even if he did, would it be safe to confide in him, or would he freak?
The questions whirled in her head and none had answers forthcoming. Maybe she was over-thinking this? She should just take this a day at a time instead of worrying about the future. Marie was right. Time was as valuable as it was fleeting, and more likely than not, John might be out of their lives soon.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“You were thinking pretty hard about nothing.” He caressed her creased brow with the pad of his thumb.
“Let’s dance.”
He stood, and she stepped into his waiting arms. The full length of their bodies touched as they swayed to a streaming Mozart flute. She laid her cheek on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. It was a little fast, but so was hers. She thought of Marie, off somewhere listening to their beats.
“I had a nice time tonight,” John said.
Abby moved to rest her chin on his chest and looked up at him. “Me, too.”
“I don’t want it to end.”
She sighed. She wanted to sleep with him too but not with Marie home and able to hear. It was too weird. “Not tonight, John.”
“Abby, we’ve been dating now several—”